[Verse 1] She came like mold on silver bone, A stalker in my sinkhole throne. Ears back, grin wide, gleamin’ wet with want— That hyena wench in her torn-up vaunt. Sniffin’ round my little stash, The baubles I’d bled to hatch— Amber teeth and ribboned rot, Songs I’d pickled in a pot. [Verse 2] I watched her lick my curses clean, Barefoot queen in denim mean. I let her touch. I let her near. Then caught her cold. Now listen here: You want me hoard? You want it all? Then break me binding on this haul. Three nights to guess me proper and true— Or ye’re mine to keep, a trinket, too. [Chorus 1] O Spek me naym, if you dare, Spek it sweet, with velvet care. Say it right and walk out free— Or stay here, pet, belong to me. [Verse 3] She came back slow on the third day's tide, Eyes like knives and hips all snide. She spoke, first soft: “Curdle-shit?” I clicked my teeth. “That be... not it.” She circled slow, her breath like gin, “Widdershins?” she failed again. She dragged her claws through candle wax And whispered low, “Piddle-sack?” [Chorus 2] O Spek me naym, ya ragged tease, Say it now, or bend your knees. The clock is cracked, the deal is signed— The sun's near set and then ye’re mine. [Bridge] Then she leaned in, all snarl and tongue, Her scent, spiced pumpkin and sweet dung. She straddled low o'er my mossy throne, And sang her guesses in honeyed tone. “Ruddy-bump,” she breathed in steam, Me eyes rolled back into a dream. “Flickersnatch,” she gasped and bit, Me limbs a-twitched, me nib a-flit. “Crankenspurt,” she moaned, paw down me breeches, Me skin went blotch, She huffed “Sloppypeaches.” So close, so close- oh please, Scuzzy, spek it clear! I screamed, “It’s Blisterfinch!!!!” [Chorus 3] O Spek me naym—say it slow… Say it sweet or say it low. Spek me naym—don’t let it end… Spek it, Scuzz—I’ll break, I’ll bend. [Verse 3] She scooped the sack, she kissed my cheek, I slumped in muck, too numb to squeak. She waltzed out proud, a clinking thief, While I lay twitching, lost in grief. She paused at mouth of cave, head turned— Me guts a-churnin', me ballsack burned. She winked and spat, with perfect pitch: “See ya, Dribble-squench.” [Chorus 4] Spek me naym! Please spek it true! Spek me naym! Just once from you! Don’t leave me husk, don’t turn away— Spek me naym! Please... just spek me naym. [Outro] I shrieked and spit, and tore me own guts in twain, She stole but never spek... me naym.
